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“I really don’t think it’s going to be fine,” Rose fretted.

Unsurprisingly, it had taken no time at all for the twins to learn of what Emily was calling, in the privacy of her own mind,the incident.

“It’s going to be fine,” Emily reiterated for what had to be the dozenth time that morning already. The three sisters were seated around the breakfast table, having all arrived at an hour far earlier than their usual repast. Emily had come down early because she’d been plagued by restless dreams of firm hands clutching at her and steadying weights pressing down upon her, only to be unceremoniously snatched away as she bolted into wakefulness.

Rose had evidently come down early because she was worried.

Amanda had come down for the sole purpose, it seemed, of delighting in the entire situation.

If Emily had worried that Amanda might be upset over Emily being caught in a compromising position with the Earl, such effort had apparently been wasted. It had taken Emily only a few minutes, the night prior, to break away from the scandal erupting around her and press through the crowd to find her sisters. If the Earl of Moore had called after her, she’d resolutely ignored him.

Emily only had her own two legs to carry her, however, and even those were shaky from the earl’s kis—fromthe incident. Gossip had wings.

By the time she found the twins, they clearly already knew what Emily had just been up to. Rose looked stricken. Amanda could barely contain her laughter.

Rose had, to Emily’s undying gratitude, taken Emily’s side over Amanda’s in the short, tense carriage ride home, urging her twin not to bother their elder sister with probing questions about what had really happened. Amanda’s forbearance had been for one night only, it seemed, as she’d arrived to breakfast with a gleam in her eyes.

“It simply doesn’tseemfine,” Rose insisted. “I mean…you’ve been compromised, Emily. Surely someone has todosomething.”

“Nobody is going to do anything,” Emily soothed. “There will be gossip, and it will be unpleasant. We will withstand it. That is all.”

“Yes, Rosie, don’t be so stodgy,” Amanda scolded absently. “We should be pleased that Emmy has finally done something exciting for once. Tell us, Em, how was it? Leave out no detail.”

Rose looked like she was about to faint.

“It was ill advised,” Emily said firmly.

“Spoilsport,” Amanda complained, slumping into her chair with a pout.

“Itwillbe fine—” Emily directed this part of her comment at Rose. “—but we shouldn’t dwell on it or make more of the matter than is necessary.” This part was for Amanda.

“But your reputation, Emmy!” Rose explained, exasperation tinging her concern like she couldn’t quite understand how she was the only one to see the problem with the prior evening’s events.

“You’re probably right that nobody is going to want to marry me after this,” Emily said kindly to her sister, who was gnawing at her lip. “But nobody wanted to marry me before this, either. Iamrather on the shelf; this just confirms things a bit.”

Emily dabbed smartly at her mouth with her napkin, determined to put an end to this whole debacle. The sooner things went back to normal, the better.

“Besides, it’s all for the best,” she said decisively. “The Earl had it in his head to marry Amanda?—”

“Hewhat?” Amanda yelped, sounding horrified.

“—something that Amanda clearly did not intend,” Emily continued with a pointed look at her sister, who was muttering furiously under her breath about “innocent flirting” and “having a nice time” and “stupid gentlemen and their stupidideas.”

Emily decided to leave Amanda to work through that matter herself and turned, once again, to Rose.

“This might not have been the tidiest conclusion to the matter, but it is quite final. I highly doubt any of us will ever see the Earl of Moore again.”

Rose was just opening her mouth, no doubt to argue further, when a knock in the doorframe drew their attention. A footman stood in the doorway, a look of polite apology for the interruption on his face.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, “but the Earl of Moore is here to see you.”

Amanda yelped and shot to her feet. “No!” she exclaimed. “I’m not in. I’m noteverin. Tell him I died—no, that won’t work. Tell him I’ve become a nun—no, drat, that’s bad, too?—”

The footman cleared his throat in the gentlest interruption.

“Here to see Miss Emily,” he clarified.

“Ohgood,”Amanda said with a sigh. Emily shot her sister a betrayed look which did not affect Amanda in the least. “Better you than me,” she said with an unrepentant shrug. Then she piled three pieces of toast together, buttered side in, and made for the rear door to the breakfast room. “Still, I’m going to make myself scarce, lest that lunatic see me and get any bright ideas about matrimony. Good luck, Emmy!”